


The Role Model and Other Unlikely Tales

by Project0506



Category: Naruto
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Gen, Kid Fic, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 11:09:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506
Summary: Apparently it's now a thing where they won't lock you up for literally all the illegal if you just don't remember doing it, and also are now a 6 year old.Kakashi despairs.





	The Role Model and Other Unlikely Tales

It starts subtly, as most things of the snakey persuasion do. In Kakashi's defense, the days immediately after Lady Hokage handed him a fun-sized version of Konoha's Number 1 Most Wanted claiming it absolutely wasn't punishment (and flashing a saccharine smile that said yes, yes it was) were... ah... unusual. Unnerving. Terrifying.

(Insane mass murderers were par for the course considering Kakashi was a _ninja_ but this was a tiny mass-murderer to be. A creepy tiny murder nugget _in his house_ and hasn't Kakashi already paid his dues? Hasn't his own crack at teaching pacified Minato-sensei's ghost? Or is this Kushina-san's retribution? It seems like a thing she'd do.)

So in light of the fact that walking into his kitchen to find Killy McShrimpy carefully emptying 16 year old seasonings down the sink to make room for powdered extract of melt-your-trachea was Kakashi's new normal, he might be forgiven for taking a day or two to notice the scarf.

“He's cold?” Kakashi offers a bit lamely. His lizard brain would light up in gibbering terror at Sakura and Ino's matching expressions, if not for the fact that SlaughterLite now shared his bathroom and 'gibber' was a fairly standard state. “Snakes are cold blooded?”

“That's definitely not it,” Sakura declares, and Ino immediately agrees. What are you doing here, Kakashi wonders. Don't you have a life? You should get one. Somewhere else. Please. Kakashi is viciously disappointed in the Yamanaka's clear inability to read his mind.

(StabbyMeal, as if made of nothing but spite, tugs his dark blue scarf more firmly across his nose. Both women make a soppy, sloshy kind of sound. Kakashi hopes they're not contagious.)

Another half hour of pokes and prods and chakra twisted in simply unnatural ways and Sakura declares him a perfectly normal 6 year old. And worse, Ino declares him a perfectly normal 6 year old. Apparently it's now a thing where they won't lock you up for literally all the illegal if you just don't remember doing it, and also are now a 6 year old.

“Are you sure?” He whines. Nobody pays him any attention. Instead they are patting murdercheeks and stroking murderhair and exclaiming enviously over tiny perfect murdereyelashes. Psycholet endures it with the longsuffering patience of something that routinely uses it's shiny scales to tempt honest folk close enough to stab in the back. (Well. At least that Kakashi doesn't have to worry about any more. Mid-thigh at best.)

And so the sudden incidence of scarves wound around half a tiny head is barely a blip on the radar.

But then there's the shirt.

(What? No. _Why?_)

“Sensei was saving it to make a quilt as a wedding gift, if you ever got married,” Tenten explains as if that made any of this any better at all. (It doesn't, even a little bit. And Kakashi had thought she was the sensible one.)

“What? No. Why?”

“You probably threw it away when you grew out of it,” Tenten continues, as if picturing Gai rummaging through his garbage instead of breaking into his house and raiding his storage _made any of this better at all._ “And since sensei had planned to use it in celebration of a new chapter in your life...”

What? No. _Why?_

It's bagged, and stamped with a date that would have put Kakashi at 7 years old. He feels distinctly stalked.

Naturally, Nightmare on Sesame Street _loves _it.

It's a size and a half too big for him, just enough for him to weaponize the air of waifishness loitering about his skinny arms and neck, but still small enough that the tiny built in mask doesn't slide down his face. Tenten and Sakura and Ino all make the sloshy noise. It is contagious after all.

“You look just like Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura chirps in that one voice that means evil and humiliation. The Tadpole of Death turns bright, bright red. Kakashi isn't quite sure, but something tells him up to that moment he had yet to taste true terror.

(What? No.)


End file.
